“This was a mistake,” I hiss at Anassa. “Take it back. I don’t want to be Bonded. IsaidI didn’t. You’re not supposed to bond with the unwilling.”
Her eerie yellow eyes narrow at me, and I remember Izabel’s warning from before, to not look any of them in the eye. What, is she going to bite me? Now that she’s forced a bond on me?
Anassa starts to pull back her lips in a growl, revealing terrifyingly sharp teeth. But before she can fully react, there’s a shift in the air.
Every recruit falls utterly silent. Even the direwolves quiet. The only remaining sounds are the howling of the wind and the occasional crunches of paws and feet in the snow. Anassa huffs beside me, making me flinch, but I can’t take my eyes off…
Him. Them.
The deathlike shadow of Stark Therion’s direwolf looms over us all from atop a snow-covered boulder. He looks even more massive than when I saw him at the base of the mountain, with his pitch black fur and dagger-like claws.
Flashes of the brutality he’s capable of—they’re both capable of—return to me. Blood, viscera, unfeeling eyes.
I wonder if they made good on their threat to chase the unwilling up the mountain. How much blood might be coating that direwolf’s muzzle, unseen in his black fur?
The wolf bares his teeth as Stark steps forward, smaller than his mount but no less imposing. There’s a reason every single person here fell silent the moment he crested the slope of the mountain.
His presence is commanding just the way a thunderhead swallows up the sky. Unstoppable, flashing with danger, a low, rumbling warning striking fear through us.
A thought emerges from the chaos of my mind. Stupid, really, but it’s there all the same.
He must be strong to ride that beast.
Stark glides his hand along his wolf’s coat, leaving it there as his dark gaze sweeps over us. When it passes over me, some instinct deep within me forces me to lift my chin and draw my shoulders back.
I’ve seen men like him before. The quiet ones. The dangerous ones. The men who don’t shout threats because they simplydon’t need to.
When I look at Stark, I see a calm, wicked confidence sharp as a knife, honed from endless fights and very few losses.
The power of his towering body, the ferocity in his gaze, the scars and dark tattoos peeking out of his gear, and the ironlike set to his shadowed jaw are there for all to see.
He’s as feral and dangerous as his direwolf.
My hair whips in front of my eyes again, a bolt of light against the endless shadow of him. An energy buzzes in my muscles, electric and hot, flooding me with strength. Something in me sees all that power and wants tomove. Throw a punch or take it all in my hands and twist it up.
His direwolf takes a heavy step forward and lets out a low, menacing growl from deep in his belly.
The recruits around me jostle backwards at the sound, even those with enormous wolves standing over them for protection.
Stark’s lips twitch like he finds it amusing. When he lifts an amplifier and speaks, it’s like the wind itself quiets to listen, the deep, gravely sound of his voice carrying clearly across the bloodstained snow.
“If you were not lucky enough to become one of the Bonded, you can now make your way back down the mountain via the path to report for military duty as a soldier. If you’ve Bonded, congratulations,” he says, the boredom in his voice making it clear that he’s unimpressed. “Your training starts right now with the first test of your bond.”
My mind whirs into motion again.Testingour bonds? I drag my attention from Stark’s imposing figure and dare to glance at Anassa.
She stands still, not looking at me, lithe muscles locked as her silvery white fur ripples in the breeze.
“You and your wolf must make it back to the training center in the castle before nightfall. From that point forward, you will be officially considered a Rawbond, a trainee. If you do not make it in time, do not bother trying to enter the castle. Because if you fail…” Stark goes on, leaning against his direwolf’s leg and crossing his arms, “your connection with your wolf will sever and you will die. Good luck.”
You will die.
There’s still blood smeared across my face from the people who’ve already lost their lives during the Ascent, and he stands up there and speaks of death with such complete indifference.
I hate him. I fuckinghatehim.
Stark is callous and bloodthirsty anddangerous. Men like that have no true loyalty to anyone but themselves. They don’tcare about anyone else, not about the lives at risk or the people lost in the cracks of the world.
He lithely mounts his wolf, muscles pulling him up with a practiced grace only possible from performing the same motion thousands of times.
